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Revelation
Tempest Spire: Outer Ring (Ground Level) ---- ::As intimidating yet beautiful as its name suggests, Tempest Spire tests the eye's strength with a strenuous squint into the lofty heavens with its height. The interior of the base is fairly vast itself and divided into two pillar-partitioned chambers - an inner and outer. The stone of walls and floor is radiantly pure, a snowy white marble inset with slender, gold veins which, if studied closely, seem to all creep towards the center of the Inner Ring. ::Upon entry into the Spire, one has four choices: to turn and go hence from which they came, turn to left and pace the dark pillar-lined corridors, turn right and mount the black marble staircase which spirals up into the abyss, or step forward into the illusory shining light of the inner ring. The latter option will bear you through four black marble pillars, two on either side, and into the mist-veiled glory of the Inner Ring. ::The Outer Ring is lit by gold sconces on the wall, each designed to look like human hands. Eventually, this ring leads to the opposite side of the entrance (north) where a small alcove has been dug into the marble. In this alcove, measuring roughtly five feet in height, a white marble statue of a dragon stands, surrounded by stout candles in obsidian sconces. ---- Silence reigns in the Tempest Spire this night, just as any other, as the edifice's creator lays coiled around the outer rim of the fountain. Her expression is still, staring vacantly up into the mist that settles down over her face, gazing up into dimensions beyond. In her hand that lays against the marble floor is a crumpled piece of leather parchment. Blackfox slips quietly into the Spire, hesitant and walking a bit gingerly, still heavily bandaged and stiff. She starts to approach one of the guards when she spots Tshepsi standing so very still. She says nothing, though, instead padding silently over to sit in front of her, looking up into her vacant eyes, uncertain if it was safe to disturb her. "Wet woundsss..." Tshepsi murmurs, her eyes still locked onto the cascading mist, body still laying belly-up. That hand, however, the one grasping the leather map, does twitch to life. It rises, slowly, and hovers a couple feet above the ground to point a limp finger in her direction. "By the missst." "I am sorry to disturb you," Blackfox says, hushed voice barely above a whisper, offering a nod as a bow was simply not possible at the moment, but respect was etched in every move she made, "But your help is sorely needed." Closing her eyes to the water at last, Tshepsi uplifts her torso effortlessly, tail retracting fold-by-fold from the fountain. Once risen fully, she turns and lays a somber eye on Blackfox. If she recognizes the bandages for what they are, she doesn't express it, instead wielding the powerful stare befitting of the Archmage that she is. "Why isss it I am needed over another?" "I...I...I cannot say it is more important than another," Blackfox is cowed, dropping her eyes, "Only that we rescued a woman who they say has had her magic drained from her. She lies dying and no one knows how to help her." "Isss ssshe wounded?" Tshepsi presses, remaining comfortably coiled where she stands, still keeping a death grip on the map. "There are no wounds that I saw," Blackfox replies, shaking her head, "They say it is her spirit that is dying...that some dark force of shadow has drained her near enough to death that she will not live much longer." Tshepsi seems to have zoned out for a moment, blinking once, twice, then "What isss her name?" the archmage hisses curiously and nudges her body into motion with forward rippling of her tail. Blackfox shakes her head, wincing a bit at the motion, "I do not know. A gargoyle carried her to a cave up north where we found her unconscious, her magic being drawn from her into a carved face on the wall. I am sorry...I do not know any more than that...I am not touched and have no knowledge of these things other than what Taran told me." "Ttthe dragon..." Enlightenment dawns o'er Tshepsi's ivory complexion, her scarlet eyes gleaming at a truth uncovered. The Syladris moves faster now, still keeping the map in tow. "Where the ssshadow growsss hungry...Sssinger, you have done well." "Where doesss ssshe now lie," orders a voice more strongly spoken than before as Tshepsi slithers out the door. No more words are spoken. Tempest Corona ' ---- ::''Of substantial size and dominance within the freehold of Crown's Refuge are the expansive gardens known as the Tempest Corona. Encircled around the base of the towering Tempest Spire, Tempest Corona exists is three circular walkways - one around the base of Tempest Spire, one around the edge of the corona, and one in the middle - that interlock at regular intervals amidst gardens of lush vegetation, delicate statues and fountains, and proud trees and ferns. ::Awash in an ocean of jade and viridian hues, the footpaths that weave around the drape of nature's finest have apparently been created from a smooth obsidian rock that glistens a shade of dark purple when wet. This black stone serves to contrast with the otherwise pristine white of the tower that looms above, both of which equally complementing the varied greens of the gardens that encompass the whole area. ::The hiss and burble of fresh water from artificial streams, channels, and fountains alike provide a perpetually peaceful backdrop to the more natural ambiance of whispering leaves and rustling bushes. Patrolmen and Guards attached to the Blood Guard of Crown's Refuge stand at key points around the gardens - Human and Syladris alike - in half-plate of a polished dark-scarlet hue; an elegant tower-shield in one hand, an iron short sword in the other. ::Centered at the heart of Crown's Refuge, the Tempest Corona links to all four of the artery pathways that run through the freehold to the north, east, south, and west. The archway that leads into Tempest Spire itself faces south towards Fastheld, flanked by two Blood Guards at all times. Regardless of the presence of the Crown's Refuge defense guard, Tempest Corona harbors a sense of peace matched only by that of the Snowfall Basin in the northwest. ---- "The...the dragon?" Fox asks, trotting alongside the Syladris as she leads the way, "She is at the Southern Cross..." The heavy downpouring of rain greets them without warmth on their exit from the Spire. Tshepsi, for one, does not seem to notice. If anything, it adds speed to the rush of scales over stone footpaths. "Point the way," She orders, "And I ssshall go. You will fall behind, but I trussst you to meet usss there in time." Blackfox shivers a bit in the cold rain, nodding as she clamps her teeth down, "East to the Baths...then North. She is in a room upstairs." And to the east the Syladris does speed, each point along her tail falling swiftly into path with the inch before it, leaving not a trace in the grass behind her. "Eliare," She whispers into the falling rain, "Do you consssume ssshadow asss it consssumesss you?" "Who is Eliare?" Fox asks as she tries to keep up, keeping words short as she saves her breath. '''The Southern Cross (Second Floor) ---- ::The second floor of the Southern Cross is a fairly conventional affair consisting of a wide wooden landing that leads into one of the various private rooms that the tavern offers to people that wish to live in a somewhat unconventional home rather than a town house. ::Clear-glass windows rest at either end of the hallway, overlooking the street below, while the occasional explosion or haunting musical chime can sometimes be heard from behind the often locked and triple-reinforced door of the Tavern's owner, one Garrett Hawklight, a somewhat eccentric mage. ---- Panting, one hand against the wall as Blackfox bites her lip, dripping water all over the floor, she gestures to the door, "She is in there." Rather than minding the cumbersome table arrangement below, Tshepsi left a fair mess in her wake, simply rearing up, slithering over, and toppling the woodwork in her path. When one is an archmage, one worries little about being chided. Waiting patiently on the balcony now, Tshepsi glances peacefully to the winded Blackfox behind her. "Isss ssshe alone?" Blackfox shakes her head, "Taran left his guard," she replies. Nodding, Tshepsi fingers the door handle lightly and bears it open just widely enough for her to slither through. She halts a couple meters inside, allowing the length of tail to file in behind her, winding itself into pretzel formation in order to give the human woman room to follow, if desired. Blackfox follows into the room, the woman lying on the bed while the Ordinator Jehan stands guard. A pallet off to the other side of the room looks to have been recently slept in, and a basin of bloodied water and cloth sits on the nightstand beside a mug filled with some sort of tea leaves but no hot water. The woman is in her fifties, bleached blonde hair giving way to silver, her tanned skin and rough, utilitarian clothing suggesting a nomad of some sort. She looks pale, drained, somewhat sunken-featured, as if starved or otherwise subjected to intense rigors. She lies unconscious, breathing very softly but making no other motion. For many, the sight of a Shadow's abomination - serpentine and lithe - slithering to their deathbed would be a disconcerting way to spend their last few breaths. The presence of this creature, however, is a greater symbol of purity and hope than even some of her sunkissed counterparts. At least, for those who recognize the Syladris for who she is. Tshepsi shows no hesitation in her approach, leaving the map to lay to rest on the floor, and glides fluidly around the foot of the bed. One hand gestures to the guard, ushering him away. "Daughter of Ssshadow's kissss," Tshepsi softly addresses the unconscious woman. She does not stop when reaching the bedside but instead climbs onto the blankets and lays alongside the palid figure, a portion of her tail draping over the woman's ankles and trailing away beneath the bed. "Why do you fade..." Blackfox follows slowly behind, "She has been like this since we found her on the altar," Fox says, gingerly bending down to pick up what was dropped to put it on the nightstand, daring to take a peek at it as she does so. The map is a crudely drawn one of the wildlands. The etchings of the Drakespine Mountains in the northern ends of the map are stained blood red and still retain the metallic smell. Tiny markings made from charcoal tick from Crown's Refuge to areas vaguely north. The bed sags heavily beneath the added weight and continues to shift as Tshepsi leans on her right elbow and rolls over to rest her face almost flush with the older woman's. Tiny droplets of water shed from her scalp and patter like tears over the closed eyelids below her. She whispers something into her ear while her left hand strokes tenderly once through the ashen hair and across her cheek. Very rhythmically, Tshepsi shifts her breathing to match the shallower pace of the victim's and she traces her 'talons' along the woman's arm to seize her hand into her own. "Do not follow where itsss breath takesss you..." Then, the Archmage cranes her head back slightly, eyes lifting in their sockets and becoming transfixed over the ceiling. Her aura spills outward, searching and hunting for the nature of whatever's left within the woman. Blackfox can only watch in silence, not wanting to disturb anything as her eyes are drawn from the map to the bed. Once again, the diminutive huntress feels totally overwhelmed and out of her element, wishing not for the first time that day that she had never left the forest to enter the Refuge in the first place. "Nature holdsss to you, as you held to it. Do not let fade the whissspers of the breeze, nor forget the kisss of rain. Anchor yourssself to that which remainsss. Your wall wasss brokenbut let not your ssspirit tumble in itsss wake. Evoke your inner fire." Tshepsi utters, voice barely audible above their faint, labored breathing. "Think of the Light, for Light guidesss the ssshadows when it turnsss. For I cannot call it for you. Your ssspirit cannot be replaced with ssshadow, lessst it, too, be drawn away and into the eternal darknessss." Gingerly, Tshepsi lifts her lips away from the woman's ear and lays her horned head awkwardly on the pillow beside, her left hand pulling the woman's hand to rest over her own center. Blackfox finally is bold enough to speak up, though her voice is more like that of a mouse than anything else. "Is...is there anything I can do?" "Open a window ssso ssshe can feel the breeze and sssmell the rain," Tshepsi suggests, and lifts her tail off the poor woman's feet, draping it instead more directly off the bed's foot. Closing her eyes and letting her breathing fall back into a more normal rhythm, Tshepsi lays the woman's palm flat against her breast so that the unconscious body could sense a stronger, robust breath of life. "Eliare," She hisses, evoking the mysteries which surround the name once more. "Be the hunger sssated? Be the new dawn complete?" As if to answer, a nearby metallic screech can be heard echoing across the rooftops of Crown's Reach, and another, further off, answers it. Blackfox moves to the window and reaching for the sash, freezing as she hears the screeching, backing away from the window as she reaches for her bow. "Gargoyles," she whispers, the blood draining from her face, "They have followed us here." "Go from thisss place..." Tshepsi growls more ferverently to the screeches outside, though she remains on the bed. "Take no more sssouls thisss night." At last, she leaves the woman's side and sits up, glaring with newborn malice to the window. "Step away..." She advices to Blackfox and inhales a deep breath through her nostrils. It is released in a violent whoosh, lungs then expanding to repeat whilst her hands raise upwards to the heavens. "May the wind beneath the great wingsss of the white dragon conjure forttth....dissspel thessse creaturesss back from which they came..." Outside, the winds show little change, however, picking up only slightly in gusts. Blackfox nocks an arrow as she continues to back away from the window, murmuring softly, "Their eyes," she says, "There they are vulnerable." The next pair of call-and-answer screeches are further off, probably the opposite end of the city, heading away. It seems they haven't yet found their target. Frowning to her blatant failure, Tshepsi stares at the arrow as it's being loaded. "The ssspirit of druid and evoker hasss been once taken," Tshepsi mumbles in thought. "Ssseek they now a diviner? A necromancer?" Turning her head to look sadly down to the fading woman, she rests a hand over the cool cheek, offering her warmth. "We know now where thisss creature takesss itss meal. Those of ssshadow's children ssshould be wary of the skiesss...for the ssskies have turned 'gainst usss." This notion seems to upset Tshepsi terribly, as the end of her sentence wavers into grief and eyes well with tears. Her beloved sky, now bringing sssad sssongs of death. "This is not the first he has done this to?" Fox asks, cocking her head to listen as the screeches move further off. Her bow is lowered, though the arrow still rests on the string. "Perhapsss?" Tshepsi answers with uncertainty. "Thisss woman sssatisfied two realms of need. Her giftsss ssstill linger around her. They are weak. But they are here." Rising from the bed entirely now, Tshepsi stretches her height till her horns brush the ceiling, then lowers back to a more proper stance. "Ssshe will come with me to the Ssspire. It isss not sssafe here, in thessse small homesss of men." Blackfox picks up the remains of her tattered armor that had been tossed in the corner of the room, flipping it around backwards as she loosely straps it in place. What had once been the back was shredded, claw marks clearly visible on the leather. Though by no means comfortable or highly effective, at least wearing it this way offered her injured back some means of protection. "Can you guard us with your magic?" she asks, moving to pick the woman up. "To beckon the ssshadow's might isss to call it to you in ssstrength," Tshepsi murmurs then rests a hand lightly on Blackfox's arm to halt her efforts. "Becaussse they have gone, I will not risssk a beacon. But the Ssspire...the Ssspire isss built of thingsss far greater than wood and ssstone." Smiling knowingly, Tshepsi 'bends' and slides her sinewy arms beneath the legs and shoulders of the weak woman. Humming with a mother's croon, she cradles her to her. "I keep you sssafe and warm..." She promises via whisper. "I...I do not know what you mean," Fox says, taking a step back and unlimbering her bow again, "But I will see you both safely to the Spire." "That would be mossst appreciated," Tshepsi nods, sparing the guard a glance on her way out. "I once toyed with a bow...it wasss great fun." That is, at least, until she'd nearly hit the Archon in the buttocks when aiming many degrees to his right. Continuing to hum with innocence, she ssslides on out the door and onto the stair's landing outside. Blackfox simply nods in silence, her expression grim despite the Syladris' humming, following with bow in hand. ---- ''Return to Season 6 (2007) Category:Logs